


His Idol

by cathouse_mary



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Bathroom!Sex, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Creep & Peep, Drinking, First Time M/M, Kink Meme, M/M, Masturbation, Piercings: Prince Albert, Pre-Canon, Promiscuity, Reapers, Shinigami, Smoking, Voyeurism, drunk!sex, shower!sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathouse_mary/pseuds/cathouse_mary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronald crushes. Alan plots. Eric is along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Idol

Ronald was fascinated by the tall Advanced Technique instructor from the London division. Sent to tutor the upperclassmen, allegedly as some form of administrative discipline, Senior Reaper Eric Slingby was like no other Reaper in the faculty. With his strange braids, partly bleached hair, and ice-blue tinted glasses, he was also been something of a revelation to B-average student Ronald Knox, the King of Coasting. For the first time in his life, he wanted to really go all out to impress someone, be noticed by someone.

Amend that - impress and be noticed by someone who wasn't female.

And it was just to be noticed, right? It wasn't about that other stuff, because he didn't know anything about any of that other stuff. Ladies, he was all about the ladies. Anything that happened to show up in his mind when he was awaking with a morning erection was just... humours. Right. Absolutely.

Eric was his idol, and not just for the way he could swing a scythe. The man was... well, to say the least... very popular with the ladies. They landed in Eric Slingby's lap singly and in pairs with clockwork regularity. This being something Eric made no effort to hide, sometimes showing up to teach with a collection of love-bites on his neck, framed by his open collar and loosened tie.

And, as Ronald witnessed, it was not only the ladies who appreciated his charms. Eric's 'friend' Alan Humphries, came to visit on a few occasions over the term. Eric's 'friend' was also very obviously his lover, and seemed to know exactly how Eric was spending his free hours. If anyone hoped to lure the tomcatting Reaper into a more permanent settlement, their dreams were quite dashed. On the upside, there were a great many ladies on the rebound, and Ronald was more than willing to be their rebound guy.

On the other hand, he was also immensely curious about Eric Slingby and Alan Humphries. They were both from London division, which was mostly characterised as being full of the 'somewhat odd' and occasionally as staffed by those 'completely barking mad.' Ronald resolved, when not selflessly being the rebound guy, to keep an eye on them when next Alan came to visit.

~

Six Months Later:

It was a warm day, their final test not more than a month off, when Ronald heard the clanging strike of scythe on scythe from the open doors and windows of the armoury.

"Come on, Eric, you know me better than that!"

Eric's laugh carried all the way up the hill. "All right, Mr. Triple-A, let's go!" Another clash of scythes rang clearly in the humid air. They had to be using the real thing and not just the student models.

This he had to see - real Reapers with real blades as they sparred one another. The thick branches of a chestnut tree should get him high enough to look in one of the casement windows, and offer some concealment besides. It wasn't as if he was spying. He just wanted to see what they were doing, which was totally different from spying.

And by Typhon's balls, what they were doing was giving him an eyeful. A shirtless, bare-chested, sweating eyeful, and Ronald could not for the life him have torn his gaze away. Their movements were as graceful and elegant as the blade-dancers in the history plays, but the scythes were the real thing and the movements bespoke something more than choreography. The two were so intent on their match that Ronald doubted they'd notice him if he walked in and stared. The blades were humming silver arcs in the air, sparking and ringing when they clashed, visible only a scant second before they blurred into motion once more. Eric and Alan were breathtaking, if one must breathe, and Ronald forgot to do so several times in the first minute alone.

Never again, Ronald vowed, would he judge any Reaper by size after seeing Alan Humphries in action. Wiry and strong, despite a delicate first appearance, he blocked Eric's strikes without a quiver despite an obvious recent injury to his left forearm. Moreover, Eric had been holding out on the students; the tall Reaper was not pulling any blows, and even had a balisong knife to make things a bit more interesting.

The end of the bout came quickly. Alan pressed his attack, wedging the butt of his scythe behind Eric's knee, pushing him backwards, and Eric went over like a falling tree. The saw-shaped scythe flew at another blow from the butt of the scythe. Alan dropped astride Eric's torso, wresting the balisong from Eric's hand, and then pressing it to his throat.

"Surrender." Alan was almost nose-to-nose with Eric. "Or be reaped."

"Sod off." Alan did something with his other hand that Ronald could not see, making Eric laugh low and warmly. "Wee pert thing! Keep at it, then. I'm becoming convinced. Slowly."

Alan bent, whispering in Eric's ear and the tall reaper flushed, pulling Alan down and kissing him hard.

That didn't look a bit like surrender and Ronald was stuck to the spot, finding that watching them kiss was as good (as hot) as watching them spar. His tongue swept unconsciously over his lips, a sharp heat sparking low in his belly. The fascinating flicker of tongues, the press of lips and skin against skin almost made him miss it when Eric started squeezing Alan's arse.

"Showers. Now." Eric rasped. Alan's response, while not verbal, made Eric's hips buck.

Ronald started breathing again. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get out of this tree, get back to his room, and wank as if he was being graded on it. There was no justification for watching them, and-

And he needed to get from this tree to that tree before they got to the showers so that he could watch. It was something of a challenge, doing that with a violent erection, and what Ronald felt he truly deserved was to break his fool neck. Perching carefully, Ronald peered down into the window high on the wall of the shower room, going breathlessly still as he heard them approach.

Naked. Yes, one took showers when naked. However, there was everyday naked and then there was naked with things in mind and just looking at them both made him want so very badly. It was beyond being randy. It was beyond having a wank or looking up some agreeable company. He was burning up, aching for something he had no idea how to name, only that he wanted to be-

Wow. For Alan's sake, Ronald really hoped that Alan was the one going on top. Eric was... endowed. And... wait.

All right.

He'd heard of couples having matching rings, but not... through that. Ronald's cock almost deserted him at the thought of a piercing through the glans. Alan hooked a finger through Eric's ring, giving a it a slow tug as he turned on the water. While he couldn't hear what Eric said in return, there was a bottle of rubdown oil in Alan's hand a second later.

They were going to... Eric was... Alan... oh, Reaper kiss your blade for luck... he'd never be able to take a shower in there again without thinking...

Unbuttoning his trousers and easing himself free of his underclothing, Ronald gave in. They were going to have it off, and he was going to watch if he didn't cream in his hand just from touching himself.

Um. It wasn't Alan who was going to be on top, was it? Eric's arms were around Alan, fingers slick with oil inside his partner's arse, and Alan was just wriggling for it. Alan pressed his head against Eric's shoulder and it was easy to read his lips forming the words 'please,' and 'more,' and 'yes' as Eric brought him down onto the tiles, cradled the smaller man under him and-

Oh, apparently Eric could fit quite well with Alan's legs and arse pushed back and up, and the expression on Alan's face was one of pure bliss. Glasses askew and cheeks flushed, Alan urged Eric on, fingers carding though his hair as Eric thrust quicker, harder into him.

Ronald's hand moved in a ragged rhythm on his own cock, biting his lip savagely to keep back the moans his body wanted him to give. He wanted that. He needed that so badly. Wanted what Alan was taking, what Eric was giving him to make him loud enough to be heard over the shower's downpour. There were no words, just desperate and wanton cries of pleasure. Alan's hands scrabbled on the tiles as he writhed, arched, and then came wildly, pearl-white spatters decorating him from belly to chest. Eric folded over him moments later, shuddering and hips bucking in release.

Ronald's vision whited out, and all the heat in his body compressed, pulsing out of him in an ecstasy that was sweetly painful. Panting, eyes closed, and his hand full of his own shot, he didn't see the two rise and rinse off, or the glances the pair gave the open window. It was a long time past dinner before he was able to climb cautiously down from the tree, and crept shamefaced back to his room.

~

Six Months Later:

The party was in full swing, the whole of London division's attentions previously devoted to work were now devoted to blowing the windows out. Administration had a fine sense of timing, sending down a raft of food and top-shelf alcohol to soothe grumpy Reapers on overtime. Ronald was somewhat in awe of his seniors, not because he hadn't seen full-speed-ahead partying before, but because he hadn't seen what they were really capable of doing.

Tipping back his pint of black-and-red, Ronald looked around the dispatch room, patting his waistcoat pocket absently. Bugger, that's right. His Murad cigarettes and lighter were at the bottom of the Thames. The rich blend of stout and red ale made him crave a smoke.

"Ronald, it's a filthy habit." Alan scolded from very near his ear, making him jump slightly. "Put something else in your mouth."

Ronald felt his cheeks flush at the mental image that conjured. Eric and Alan were his comrades and co-workers now, often inviting him for drinks, even buying for him when he was flat in the pockets as junior Reapers often were. Much of the time he turned them down, being heartily ashamed of spying on them and certain he'd betray his guilt to those he now considered friends.

"It's only when I'm drinking, Senior." Ronald looked down at Alan, the petite Reaper could look him right in the chin, and felt the guilt shift on his conscience. "Besides, they're at the bottom of the Thames, and I'm flat until payday."

"Tch, we should get a hell of a bonus for this last bit." Alan was drinking his favoured brandy, looking as worn around the eyes as Ronald felt. "That was a dog's dinner they handed us, and no mistake."

Ronald could only nod. Yes, he'd passed his exams, but there was a world of difference between that and what he now did every day. Today had not been anything he'd had in mind when he was still at the academy.

"Are you all right, Ronald? You look a little punchy." Alan put a hand on his shoulder and Ronald gave himself a mental shake. It was not a pass.

"It was just... a rough day, wasn't it?" He'd chew through the wall for a smoke, by the First Scythe, he would.

Alan nodded. "It was, but we did a good job. Those souls are safe now. Are you sure you're all right? Do you need to get out of here for a bit?"

It took an effort, but Ronald managed to crack a smile. "No, but I'd reap Leviathan himself for a smoke, and something a little stronger than a black-and-red."

Alan seemed to consider it. "Come on. I think I have you covered."

And before he could protest, Alan took him by the tie and bloody well towed him to his and Eric's office.

"Eric smokes Karams." Ronald watched as Alan picked the lock on his partner's desk drawer, pulling out a tin box of smokes and one of the new-style cartridge cigarette lighters. "Just bring them back, and don't lose the lighter." From the back pocket of Alan's trousers came a small silver screw-top flask, which he handed to Ronald. "It's Skulle & Bownes."

"Wow. Is it XO?" Ronald was impressed. The only way he could afford an ounce of Skulle & Bownes was if someone very generous was buying his drinks!

"It's bloody ancient for all I can tell, and has a kick like a warhorse about ten minutes in." Alan winked at him. "Now, if you need to get yourself together away from the maddening crowd, the next floor up is just used for storage. There's a loo just as you come out of the stairway."

For a moment, Ronald was strongly inclined to lean in and kiss the curve of Alan's lower lip. It looked as if it wanted to be kissed, and was actually quite inviting. How many pints had he had? The correct answer was 'one too many' if his prurient thoughts about either of his seniors were that close to the surface. Instead Ronald made himself take the flask and flip Alan a cocky salute on his way out the door. It was his imagination that Alan looked a little disappointed, surely.

This end of the office was quiet, and Ronald was grateful to find the stairway empty of trysting sweethearts. It took some patting around in the dark to find the door, then the knob, and then the lights for the loo, but they came on readily enough. Clean light on all white paint and tile and gleaming brushed steel fixtures was bright enough to make him blink, but it was blessedly quiet. Honestly, he hadn't realised just how on edge he was before that door shut behind him.

The window opened easily, and the first puff of the Turkish cigarette loosened Ronald's spine as he exhaled the smoke with a groan. Bless Alan. And bless Eric for having such a filthy habit. The brandy he swigged right from Alan's flask, the rich vintage mellow and warm on his tongue before burning down his gullet to kindle in his belly.

"Oh, now that's the gooood stuff!" Another swig and his shoulders loosened, warmth spreading outward from his belly with another swig on the heels of that. Propping himself in the window sill, Ronald remembered what Alan said about the brandy kicking like a mule about ten minutes in. What time was it? He hadn't had so much. It was just good to sit here, the tiles of the embrasure cool against the back of his head, the spiced tobacco mixing with the flavour of the brandy.

~

Man, it was louder that the siege of Sebastopol in here. Eric knew that everyone needed a morale boost after an operation like that last one, so it was hard to tell anyone to tone it down. You either blew off steam or blew apart at the seams, and tonight even the seniors looked about to pop the rivets on their souls. Eric looked around for Alan; this kind of blowout was really not his style, and it was not a surprise that he'd slipped off to a quieter part of the department to work his way down to the bottom of his flask.

A quick search showed him in none of the usual places, with none of their usual people. Interesting. Alan was one of those people with habits, and when he deviated that meant something was in the works. Eric patted his pockets; a smoke might help him along.

Bugger. Left them in his desk. People were always hitting him up for a cigarette and even for a senior Reaper, the damned things were expensive.

And there, on Eric's desk, was Alan; who looked far too pleased with himself. It was a relief. Since the Incident, Alan had been prone to fits of melancholy and agitation. The Thorns might or might not develop, and if they did develop, might or might not progress. It was hard to say, as there had not been a case like Alan's in centuries.

"All right?" Eric hated himself for scrutinizing Alan like this, but happily there were no signs of anything out of the ordinary. "It's a bloody zoo out there."

Alan's dry look meant he'd noted Eric's scrutiny. Nothing got his partner's wind up faster than being treated as if he were fragile or in need of assistance. Despite his size, Alan was one of the toughest Reapers around, even if he was something of a soft touch. And while Eric could call his partner a wee pert thing to his face, anyone else trying it was asking for a punch in the nose.

"I'm fine." There were layers of meaning in that, and Eric parsed every one. "Ronald just needed a smoke and a few nips of brandy."

Alan did not smoke. Alan considered it a filthy habit. And if Eric kept his cigarettes in his desk, Alan had industrial-strength peppermints in his.

Oh-ho.

Eric put his hands on his hips. "You looney, what is going on in that notional head of yours?"

"Now here I was, just helping our young comrade." An angel could not have been more innocent - a dead giveaway of Alan's certain guilt. Considering that he and Alan had been trying to lure the skittish junior into come-have-fun range, the innocence was also badly misplaced. "We may have been going about this the wrong way."

"I can't believe you gave him my smokes. What way is that?" Eric fished out his flask and took a swig of whisky.

"Quit moaning about your smokes, and he's fine with just one of us." Alan took hold of his loosened tie and pulled him closer, scooting himself to the edge of the desk. "We've been flushing him like a bird when there are two of us."

"Mm. So?" Eric was suddenly far less concerned with his smokes and lighter than with the idea of locking the door and spreading Alan across his desk.

"So, I sent him upstairs with your cigarettes and my brandy to unwind a little."

An imperious tug on his tie was a demand to be kissed and Eric obliged. Screw the party, he was going to peel Alan starkers and take him deep-

Wait.

"You sent him upstairs?" Eric's lips twitched. "With your brandy?"

~

All right, the flask might be half empty, but Ronald was sure he had not had all that much. Getting away from the riotous atmosphere below had been just the right idea. The brandy and smokes relaxed him enough that he sprawled lazily in the embrasure, lifting a second cigarette to his lips for a drag. How could he ever thank Alan?

The stairway door creaked softly, and Ronald muttered a curse. If someone was going to come in here and canoodle, he’d have to go stumbling around in the dark again. Feet scuffled in the dark corridor and someone patted along the wall until they found the knob and-

"Bleeding hell, Knox, you'd better not have puffed up all of my smokes." Eric came in and shut the door quickly behind him. "Cough up, moocher."

It was a given that while Ronald had little problem talking to Alan, around Eric he was generally tongue-tied. Tongue-tied being vastly better than having his foot in his mouth. Come to think of it, what did one say when one had seen... aghdon'tthinkaboutthat!

"If you keep blushing like that, people are going to talk, you know? You're either missish or have a horribly guilty conscience." Eric caught the tin and lighter Ronald tossed at him, shaking an admonishing finger. "How many of these did you smoke?"

"Um. Two." He hoped, because if his Murads were dear, Ronald would bet those Karams cost twice as much for half as many. "Three, maybe."

Eric lit up, taking a deep pull and then flopped next to Ronald with a sigh. "That's the ticket." He looked at Ronald and laughed. "Now, just how much Skulle & Bownes have you had?"

That was a very interesting question, as the flask seemed much lighter than it had been when he came in. "Just a few sips. I think. Alan is aces!" Ronald lifted the bottle in a toast, only to have it intercepted by Eric for two quick swigs.

"He pirated my smokes. Fair's fair." Eric's expression was always hard to read, and his glasses added to the inscrutability as he lowered the flask, studying Ronald rather closely. "See? There goes that blush again. I think I'm going to have to turn Alan loose on you to find out what's triggering it. He's a damned fine interrogator. So good that what people won't tell him just hasn't happened yet."

If Ronald thought that he had pushed the outer limits of looking like a stammering fool, he was in a whole new orbit by the time Eric finished. His brain was giving him Very Wrong Thoughts. As he tried to sort them out, Eric casually took hold of Ronald's tie, a corner of his mouth lifting in a feral half-smile.

"Alan's good at subtle, maybe a bit too good. He didn't want to scare you off. I'm not giving you the chance."

There was a split second for Ronald's thoughts to skid around in his brain before Eric kissed him and it wasn't that Ronald had never been kissed before. No, not that at all. It was that he'd never been kissed like this before; bruisingly hard and hungry, the scruff of evening beard rasping his chin. There was the taste of tobacco and brandy in a mouth that wasn't his own, and his hands were not on Eric's shoulders to push him away but to pull him closer.

Did he just moan? Oh, yes, he did. He was breathless, hard and needing, parting his lips and taking Eric's tongue.

Breaking the kiss, Eric murmured, "Now where did that blush go?" Eric's other hand covered the fly of Ronald's trousers and squeezed his straining prick through the fabric. "There it is."

Ronald had perhaps a half-dozen thoughts that he really needed to get in order. Thoughts like what Alan might do to him for fooling around with his partner, or how it was all about the ladies with him, or what if someone walked in that door. Not a one of them managed to make it down his brain-stem before he realised that his trouser buttons were being popped open one by one and then Eric's hand was in his underclothes, warm and strong and stroking him perilously close to a fast finish.

"Yeah..." Eric's hand did all the things he liked to do when it was his own hand, his grip tight and thumb spreading the clear, slippery seep over the glans. "Wait. Too fast."

"Take the edge off. I know you've not more than one shot." Eric's breath was warm on his ear, his voice low and wicked. "Fuck my hand, Ronald. I want to watch you come."

Oh, that did it. "You're about t-to get your ahhh w-wish!" It was enough to undo him completely, hips bucking and his stuff making a mess of Eric's hand, he finally understood why humans called orgasm 'la petit mort' - it felt so damned good that you didn't care if you bloody well up and died.

~

"Breathe, Ronald."

The unfocused eyes, forgetting to breathe, and the come-his-brains-out smile. Ronald's edges had definitely been blunted where Eric's own had been decidedly whetted. Youth, Eric thought fondly, was always in haste. They did everything like rabbits on the run - eat, party, work, sleep, fuck. Eric pulled Ronald up by the tie and kissed him again, slowly and sweetly.

It also amused Eric no end that he was picking up Alan's habit of treating ties as the handle of the person wearing it. He had to admit that it was convenient.

"All right, then?" Eric slipped his fingers lower, cupping Ronald's balls and tumbling them slowly.

It took a few moments for Ronald to collect himself enough to answer. "Bugger. Brilliant."

"Want more?" Eric unbuttoned his trousers, showing himself ring and all. Ronald dropped any pretence of smooth and stared.

"That... there's a ring..." He paused. "And how the hell do you fit that inside Alan?"

Eric laughed. "I can give you a demonstration." Opening more buttons on Ronald's waistcoat and shirt, he added slyly, "I suppose you didn't have the best seat in the house before."

~

"You knew?" For one horrible, horrified moment, Ronald thought his head would to burst into flames.

Eric only looked amused, and Ronald's buttons were being undone at an alarming rate. "Kind of hard to mistake those noises for anything else, you know? Alan greatly admired your persistence, and that you didn't fall out of the tree."

It was very hard to think with Eric's hands on him. Ronald had to give full credit to experience and wonder if he was just that new, or if Eric was just that good. Nipples. Typhon's balls, so that's what they were for! "More. Ohfuckohpleasedon'tstop."

"Don't intend to. I've been a good, patient boy while Alan's tried to coax you into reach." Eric took Ronald's hand and pressed it to his prick. "Go on. It doesn't bite."

Ronald was a little surprised at himself. There was a cock in his hand that did not belong to him, and he was rising again under Eric's touch. No 'one and done' here, apparently. Now, about this ring... oh. That worked. He might have to change his mind about having one if it could make Eric's head tip back that way, make his hips move like that. Ronald went fully hard at the thought of what that might feel like inside of him.

"Quick study." Now Eric was the one who was breathless, his fingers pressing behind Ronald's balls and then questing further back. "Want?"

"Yes." No denying it, but- "How?"

Eric's chuckle didn't sting his pride. "Been all about the ladies, Ronald?"

Dipping a hand into his jacket, Eric brought out a small bottle of scythe oil. Used to keep a Reaper's blades in top condition, it was also a superior aid to wanking if one didn't want a dry grip. This prurient fact being one of the first things an upperclassman learned when given his student's scythe, so it stood to reason that the oil would have other uses, too. A wayward finger gave him some apprehension, and it was true that the 'pucker factor' was in play, but-

Oh. OH. That was bloody brilliant! Coherent thought fled as Eric's tongue swept Ronald's prick from bottom to top. For a moment, a more reasonable part of Ronald's brain presented the facts: he was mostly undressed with his shirt and waistcoat open, undershirt pushed up. His trousers and pants were down and around one leg. He was fairly drunk, and about to have sex in an office washroom as the bottom to a man who was the partner of another man.

Wow. What a party!

~

There were things for which it was worth being patient, and Eric was very pleased to give Ronald's pretty cock a generous and deep sucking to keep him distracted from other goings on. The boy had a tight, tight bum, and it was taking some work to loosen him up even with all that brandy bubbling around.

There was not a man, human or Reaper, who could keep a train of thought going whilst having his cock well-sucked. In fact, Eric had seen a man staring death in the teeth opt for the cocksucking over fleeing for his life. If that could distract one from the final chop, it was more than certain that the small matter of an oiled finger... or two, there's a lad... would pass with very little comment.

Typhon's teeth, he might not last much longer than Ronald, and that was the truth. Not the way the greenie was wriggling and moaning. Eric lightly scraped his teeth over Ronald's glans and curved his fingers, rubbing slowly at a small bump right... there. Ronald's legs folded as he moaned and arched, sliding out of his perch in the window to land astride Eric’s thighs.

"Like that?" A third finger, working him looser. "More?"

Ronald's hand circled his cock, giving a squeeze and stroke that made Eric's hips thrust. “Mmmore. Oh, gonnadie.”

"You'd take a lot of killing, Ronald." Eric assured him, easing Ronald down onto the floor and taking time for a good long look. Flushed and all but quivering, the young Reaper made a debauched and pretty picture. Taking himself in hand, Eric pressed Ronald’s legs back, and then pushed the head of his cock slowly against his loosened entrance.

It took more oil, more patience, more persistence – and assuring Ronald that no, his arsehole was not going to bust like a rubber band – before Eric was in him to the balls. For a moment, they were completely still, panting as if they’d just run from London to John o’Groats.

“Good?” Eric straightened Ronald’s glasses, the heat of him around Eric’s cock almost feverish.

Ronald moved under him, moaning. “So good. Move j-just oh like that.”

~

Until now, Ronald had been fairly cocksure when it came to bed-sporting. Fucking was fun, seduction a dance, and the ladies sweet company. This was a magnitude beyond. This was lust, and heat, and desire like a blade in the belly. It was Eric, oh bloody hell, Eric’s hands on him and Eric fucking him and his body opened for it, both of them striving for more and deeper and faster.

He was burning, moaning his pleasure as Eric had him with cock and mouth and hands, making him writhe and forget to breathe. Eric gazed down at him; no longer cool an inscrutable, but burning as much as Ronald.

“Please fuck please yes...”

“So good so hot for me...”

Eric took Ronald’s cock in hand, stroked him, trapping him between two quickening rhythms.

“Need yes hard need it hard.” It built quickly, a taut coil of heat winding tighter. “Fuck fuck ah can’t...”

“Yes take it you can take it...” Eric groaned the words, thrusts quickening. “Come for me want to feel you come-“

And then he was free, and probably shouting the ceiling down but Ronald didn’t care a damned bit because he was coming so hard that he felt tears as much as ecstasy. Eric shuddered, groaning from deep in his chest, and Ronald felt the steady pulse of Eric’s release inside of him.

~

They lay together for some time, too fuck-drunk to do anything else but kiss, smoke and finish off the last bit of brandy. Eric figured they both owed Alan big, and various methods of conveying those thanks were discussed as they cleaned up.

Once downstairs again, he could dimly hear Will tossing out the sots, and most of the offices were dark. A search turned up Alan in the main dispatch room, curled up with a sleeping Grell like a cat in a lap.

“Gentlemen.” Alan yawned. “Good... morning?”

Eric cast a look at the window. Bugger, they’d gone and partied the sun up. It was time to go home, catch some sleep and figure the rest of themselves out in the morning, otherwise they’d be late for their shift and have to work overtime.

“Ronald, where’s your coat?”

~ End

For: Motomori

Prompt: From forums.blackbutler.net kink meme request for Eric/Ronald, bathroom break fun, Eric seme, Ronald uke.


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